Silhouettes in the Mist
by love-serenades
Summary: Eragon's thoughts while sailing away from Alagaesia, his home.


**A/N: After reading Inheritance, I was thinking about how Eragon must have felt, leaving his friends and family, which is why I wrote this. The ending was amazing, but it was so tragic. Like not tragic in a _oh-no-somebody-died _way, but tragic in a _so-this-is-how-it's-gonna-end _way.**

**I really hope he writes another series based on Inheritance Cycle (Same character and everything), like the way Rick Riordan did with Percy Jackson and the Olympians and The Heroes of Olympus. I would be so excited if he did :D **

**I can't believe this is the end of the series! x[ I've waited for the books to come out, one after one, and it's just shocking to realize that this is _the end. _:( **

**Anyways, sorry for boring you guys out, I'm just so sad right now. (Eragon and Arya didn't even officially get together ._.) **

**On with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Inheritance Cycle.**

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><p><em>To leave and never return.<em>

Once upon a time, Eragon would have been puzzled by the words. Alagaesia was his home. He was born and raised there. It was where he had first stumbled onto Saphira's egg, the place where he was thrown into a legacy as ancient as the land itself. He had loved and lost; experienced both pain and laughter. Once, long ago, Eragon would have thought the statement strange and alien. But now...

Eragon reached out to the spot where Arya had been moments ago before Firnen had snatched her away, the light mist tickling his fingers.

_Love and loss,_ he mused, _such is the way of life. _He slowly clenched his hand into a fist and let it swing back to his side.

It surprised him how calm he was. In the weeks leading up to this point, when he had to say good-bye to most everyone he had grown close with, he had thought he would break down, curl into a ball, and cry. Yet, here he was, standing tall and alone at the prow of the ship, staring at the receding forms of Arya and Roran. _I leave a changed man; I do not think I could recognize the poor farm boy that I was so many years ago, _Eragon thought.

He looked up at Saphira, who was spiraling high above with Firnen, loathe to part with the mate she had thought she would never have. As he watched, the two dragons paused mid-spin, and seemed to exchange a flurry of thoughts. Then Firnen reluctantly spun himself around, away from Saphira, and glided back down to his Rider. Saphira uttered a mournful keen as she stayed aloft, now alone in the gray sky.

With a pang, he realized that he would probably never wrestle with Roran, raise Ismira, consult with Nasuada, or spar with Murtagh. He wouldn't exchange witty remarks with Angela, laugh with Horst, dine with Orik, or travel with Nar Garzhvog ever again. No longer could he visit Brom's tomb, or reminisce on the Crags of Tel'nair. And Arya... unless she one day joined him in the lands beyond, no longer would he be able to enjoy her companionship. After she had broken his heart so many times, they had finally come so close... oh, so close... but fate seemed to have other ideas.

A flurry of memories pounded on his mind. Becoming a Rider, training with Brom, befriending Murtagh, meeting Orik and Ajihad, falling in love with Arya, the long days spent on the Crags with Oromis and Glaedr, lazy days relaxing in Ellesmera, Angela and her verbal wit, war councils with Nasuada... With a shake of his head, he dispelled the thoughts. _There's no use, thinking about the past. I made my choice, and I cannot- will not- turn back. _Still, Eragon lamented the recollections, trying to reconcile with the inevitable fact that he will not be able to relive them in the land he is heading to.

He had left everybody that mattered- besides Saphira- in Alagaesia. The realization filled him with sorrow.

_Fate is so cruel_, he pondered_, After finally finding my way in the world, it had to tear me away, spirit me to another place. _He closed his eyes, then opened them to see a light drizzle showering the deck with little droplets of water. The rain started to obscure his view of Arya, Roran, and Firnen.

He made out Arya's form: tall, lithe, and graceful as always, with one hand on Firnen's broad shoulder. He saw Roran lifted his muscled arm in farewell. Firnen drew his head back and roared with all his might. Up above, still spiraling above the clouds, Saphira responded in kind.

Then the mist and the rain hid them, the lonely silhouettes in the mist.

Saphira alighted beside him. _So this is how it ends_, Eragon thought mournfully, turning to face her.

_And also how it begins. _Saphira hummed in response.

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry if it was kinda boring... just my thoughts after I finished the book :) And I didn't realize it was that short xD**

**R&R as always! **

**~love-serenades**


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